Читать книгу Ghosts of the Green Swamp - Lee Gramling - Страница 10

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IT WERE A MULE-DRAWED WAGON, the like of which I hadn’t never seen in all my borned days. The bottom part appeared to be somethin’ like one of them Conestoga cargo carriers what folks out west took to callin’ prairie schooners. Except it was made out of cypress, and smeared with black tar everplace around the cracks. Up above, instead of a canvas cover, was what looked to be one of them box-top medicine show rigs I’d come acrost a time or two here an’ yonder. The fact it was painted all over in bright reds an’ greens an’ yellows sort of helped that last impression along.

But then the owner or somebody had added a assortment of special touches what just made a fellow pause and scratch his head.

First, the back wheels was a deal bigger’n you’d expect on a rig like that, real wide at the rims and almost tall as a man was high. It made a kind of sense I reckon, for travelin’ through these Florida swamps and the deep sand hereabouts. But it give the outfit a kind of a funny, lopsided look, like maybe the wagon body had got itself drenched in a rain so it shrunk up between them outsized wheels.

The varnished roof had this fancy trim what stuck out several inches all around, cut with ever manner of twists an’ curlicues like you’d see on some big house in the city. And hangin’ from each loop an’ cranny of that there carvin’ was the mixed-up-est assortment of fryin’ pans, coffee pots, lanterns, kettles, tin plates, cups, bottles and other gew-gaws that anybody ever seen. They rattled an’ crashed and banged together ever time them two black mules took a step, causin’ a big part of the noise I’d been hearin’ for the past half hour without guessin’ what it was.

On either side of the driver’s seat was a couple wood cabinets, and the stuff inside there seemed to be makin’ noise too, along with who knew what-all might be in the wagon proper. And then to top it off, when this rig pulled up alongside me to give the mules a blow from climbin’ that last hill, I seen some other little doors in the body, and this window what appeared to have a mechanical music box behind it. I could make out pipes, drums, chimes, and even a ole steel-stringed banjo through the dusty glass, each part shakin’ and chinkin’ and bangin’ together to beat the band.

I mean anybody would of had to smile. And though I’d turned halfway round to keep the driver from seein’ the grin comin’ acrost my face, I couldn’t help but take just one more little peek back over my shoulder to make sure I’d really seen what I seen.

And that’s when I lost it en-tire.

I was bent over at the waist, a-whoopin’ and a-guffawin’, throwin’ my arms up in the air and slappin’ my knees, till the tears run down my cheeks and my sore ribs clutched up so’s I couldn’t hardly breathe. Afterwards I just hunkered down beside the road for a bit, clutchin’ at my sides and grinnin’ between gasps, while the driver climbed down from his perch and ambled over to have a look at me.

“Something troubling you, friend?” His voice was kind of mild and gentle when he asked the question, but I could tell right off that he weren’t finding near as much amusement in the situation as I was. I sat back on my heels and pushed my hat off my forehead to study him better.

He was kind of a short, heavy-set gent, dressed in what appeared to be a right fine store-bought suit, but with the coat off now and the vest unbuttoned on account of the heat. When he lifted up his black stove-pipe hat to dab at the sweat with a calico kerchief, I could see he was bald was a hen’s egg underneath, and burnt dark by the sun from crown to neck. His eyes was a real pale blue. And the way they had of peerin’ at you from out of that brown creased face was enough to make a feller take kind of serious whatever interest they showed in him.

There weren’t no way I could guess his age. The bald head and crows-feet round the eyes seemed to be tellin’ me one thing, whilst them muscles I could see bulgin’ out from his shirt sleeves, and the way he stood sort of cat-like an’ limber but rock-solid at the same time, was sayin’ something else entire.

After a minute he put his hat back on and shoved the kerchief into his pocket. Then he moved a step closer.

“I asked,” he repeated, even quieter than before, “if there is anything troubling you at the moment.” His eyes narrowed into two thin slits. “Perhaps you find something about myself or my equipment … amusing?”

Well, it weren’t no great feat to catch his meaning. No man cares for bein’ laughed at, and I’d of never done it this time if I’d had a mite of warning. But the whole outlandish she-bang come up on me so sudden, with it just nearly the funniest picture I’d put eyes to in a month of Sundays …

Still it wasn’t nothing I felt inclined to fight over. I’d had me a long tryin’ day already, and this here didn’t seem hardly worth the effort.

Might of been different if I was a couple years younger. Back then I’d fought any man at the drop of a hat. And drop it myself whenever I couldn’t find somebody else to do it. But lately I’d been realizin’ there was plenty enough trouble to go around, without nobody havin’ to put hisself out special lookin’ for more.

So right then it appeared like the smartest thing to do was just eat a little crow, and let bygones be bygones. I give it my best shot, but maybe I hadn’t got enough practice at that eatin’ crow part yet. ’Cause it turned out my best weren’t quite good enough.

I stood up from the ground and tugged at my hat brim, tryin’ real hard to wipe the grin off my face as I did it. Then I said, serious as I could manage, “Now don’t you go gettin’ your feathers all ruffled, mister. I didn’t mean nothin’ disrespectful. It’s only that, well, I’m kind of new to these parts. And I reckon I just ain’t never had no occasion before to see somethin’ like …” I felt the grin creepin’ back, ’spite of all I could do to stop it. “… like that …”

Well, I turned around and reached out a hand to point towards his rig. And first thing you knew I’d took another good look at it and come down with the giggles so hard I couldn’t finish what I was sayin’.

That was all Mr. Top-hat needed to make him shuck his temper for fair. And I suppose maybe I wouldn’t of blamed him much if I’d seed it from his point of view. But what he done next roused up my own dander to where I plumb forgot about his feelin’s, and changed my thoughts about fightin’ too, in pretty near half a toad-frog’s hop.

’Peared like one second I was bent down chucklin’ over that bright-colored rig with its fantastical assortment of kitchen fixin’s, and the next I’d been tripped up an’ throwed sprawling so my chin was plowin’ a furrow for the second time in one day. I rolled over an’ come off the ground fast, meanin’ to tear little Baldy’s meat house down just quick as I could get my fists set to take a sizable swing at him. But he’d already turned and started off the other way, carryin’ my hat in one hand and speakin’ to his lead mule as if he’d plumb forgot I was there.

“Here’s a little something I found to keep the sun out of your eyes, Cassius. It’s not much, but the man who was wearing it looked a lot more foolish than you will in it. And he was more ill-mannered too. Now just wait until I cut a pair of holes for your ears …”

I got a hand on his shoulder whilst he was reachin’ into his wagon for scissors, meanin’ to spin him round and toss him out in the road the way he done me. Only it didn’t work out just exactly like I’d figured.

That li’l bandy-legged gent was slippery as a moccasin and twict as quick. He ducked under my arm and took holt of it with both hands, then twisted round and hiked me over his shoulder faster’n you could say Jack Robinson. I hit the ground with a yelp and a grunt what took ever whisper of air clean out of me.

I was gettin’ awful close to losin’ my temper by this time. Bein’ whupped by big Jube this mornin’, and then by a little bald-headed runt half his size an’ twict his age in the afternoon, weren’t helpin’ my normal cheerful disposition much a-tall.

But I reckon them bumps an’ falls knocked a little sense into my noggin too. ’Cause this time I laid still and played possum after I lit, diggin’ my fingers into the sand on the side away from Baldy whilst I was at it. Sure enough, after a minute his curiosity got the best of him, and he come over to where I was layin’ to have a closer look.

I let fly with the sand in his eyes, twistin’ round in almost the same instant to bring my other fist off the ground with everthing I’d got behind her. It caught Baldy square in the chops and knocked him spinnin’, so he fetched up hard against the side of his wagon a dozen feet away. Whilst he was leaning there rubber-legged, shakin’ his head amidst the clatterin’ and clankin’ of all them pots and pans, I climbed back on my feet an’ bull-charged in, landin’ a couple solid rights and lefts to the body soon as I was close enough to do some damage.

They staggered him, but he was tough as old saddle leather and plenty game. After he’d managed to sidestep away from a kidney-punch, he come back underneath with a head-butt what brought twinklin’ lights to my eyes and made me drop my guard for almost half a second. Which give him all the time he needed to wrap them powerful arms around my body an’ trip me up.

The two of us went tumblin’ tail over teakettle through the dirt an’ sandspurs by the side of the road for what seemed a good five minutes or more, with him squeezin’ the air out from between my sore ribs whilst I gnawed on a ear and tried to get my fingers loose to where I could poke ’em in his eyes.

Each was tryin’ to get some advantage over the other without havin’ no success a-tall to speak of. I’d the edge in size, but ole Baldy was strong as a ox underneath them store-bought clothes. And it appeared like he’d done his share of no-holds rasslin’ here an’ there on top of it. Far as pure-out meanness went, I reckon we was pretty evenly matched.

Finally we just laid there, wrapped up in a death grip with the sweat pourin’ off both of us, a-huffin’ and a-gruntin’ like a couple ole boar hogs rootin’ through a cow pen. Prob’ly didn’t look nor smell too much different from them sorry critters neither about that time.

Baldy peered up from where I’d got him pinned underneath me, and his blue eyes seemed to crinkle just a little round the edges. Then he give my ribs one more good squeeze that like to made me holler out with pain in spite of myself.

“What about it, youngster?” he wheezed, grittin’ his teeth against the sharp twist I’d give his ear in reply. “You had enough yet? Or am I going to have to whip you some more?” He was grinnin’ when he said it, so I knew he figured we’d done fought to a draw.

“I ain’t too sure about the whippin’,” I answered, gaspin’ for breath my ownself between the words, “or leastways who’s got the worser of it so far. But I got to confess that rig of yours don’t appear half so funny as it did awhile back. Maybe if we was to let each other up I could take me another look, and reconsider my thinkin’.”

“Fair enough.” Baldy loosed his grip and we rolled apart. The two of us just laid there for several minutes, starin’ up at the sky and tryin’ to get our breathing back to normal. Then I pushed myself off the ground, swallowin’ a groan whilst I did it, and when I’d got to my feet I reached out a hand to help Baldy up as well.

He looked at me real suspicious before he took it. But I was only bein’ helpful. They’d been enough fightin’ and roughhouse today to last me at least another week. I weren’t of no mind to take up where I’d left off with this gent. Not over no outlandish tin pot an’ medicine-show rig, anyhow.

I stepped next to the wagon and leaned against one of them big wheels, restin’ myself and looking her over at the same time. Baldy walked over to pick up his hat and the celluloid collar what come loose during the fracas, before startin’ in to dust hisself off.

“I reckon,” I said after a minute, tryin’ to make my voice sound sincere and admirin’, “that when the sun hits her just right she do have a kind of a fetchin’ look about her. I mean, all that pretty bright paint with them shiny u-tensils an’ everthing …”

“Pretty!” Baldy spat on the ground, then strode to the front of the wagon where he fetched a canteen from under the seat and uncorked it. He took hisself a long, deep swig.

“Pretty hasn’t got a thing to do with it! In fact …” He wiped a hand across his lips and passed the canteen to me. “I believe this may be one of the ugliest contraptions ever put on this earth by God or man!”

I’d hoisted the canteen up, expecting to have myself a good-sized swallow of clear pure spring water. Only it wasn’t water inside there, nor anything even close. When that raw bayhead hit my gullet I commenced to gag an’ whoop like a man fit to die. I finally managed to choke about half of it down, whilst the rest burned a path up an’ out my nose like a red-hot poker.

Baldy appeared not to notice. But when I bent over an’ put my hands on my knees to catch a breath, I could see through the tears that he was lookin’ mighty pleased as he turned around to start fiddling with one of them near-side trace chains.

“… It so happens that what you see here,” he went on without lookin’ up, “was never intended to be a thing of beauty. But one of complete and utmost utility.” When he’d finished with the traces he stooped to fetch my hat from where he’d dropped it earlier, walkin’ back and handin’ it over while still not exactly meetin’ my eyes.

He kept on past me till he was able to take somethin’ from a rack at the side of the wagon. And when he turned around, danged if didn’t have in his hand this fancy wooden cane what he used to point out the features of his outfit as he explained about ’em — lookin’ ever bit the medicine show hawker I’d already suspicioned he was.

“These oversized wheels are especially designed for travel through the swamps and sand trails of the Florida wilderness.” Baldy was talkin’ now in a manner what give me the idea he’d already made this speech a time or two before. “Their weight also helps to lower the center of gravity when crossing deep streams. The vehicle’s bottom is caulked and water-tight, so that it becomes a very serviceable raft when occasion demands.”

He tapped his cane against the body of the wagon. “The interior contains my living quarters, including a small but comfortable bed and wood-burning stove, as well as a laboratory for the manufacture of Professor Maximilian’s Wondrous Serpentine Elixir, one of my principal stocks-in-trade.”

The little gent’s voice was gainin’ strength as he warmed to his subject, and he seemed to grow a mite taller an’ straighter too. Me, I just pushed my hat back on my head and let him spout. I figured he was bound to run out of steam sooner or later — more likely sooner, once he found out I hadn’t even got what it’d take to buy a piece of penny candy off’n him, much less no “Wondrous Elixir.”

Anyhow, he was kind of entertainin’.

“But I discovered long ago,” Baldy went on — or Perfessor Maximilian as I reckoned he called hisself — “that a merchant who offers only a single product, no matter how beneficial it may be for the public at large, is like a fiddler who can play nothing but ’Turkey in the Straw.’ The demand for his services wears thin after a very short time.

“—So I have expanded my inventory with household appliances and other useful items that are difficult to obtain on the frontier, until what you see before you now is a veritable itinerant emporium!” He reached up to run the tip of his cane amongst the rows of hangin’ doo-dads, making ’em fairly sing.

“Cast iron skillets and cook-pots, tin-ware, lanterns, washboards, ladles, brooms …” When he come to one of them cabinets next the driver’s box he flung open the doors and kept on without hardly drawin’ a breath. “… bolts of fine calico, needles, pins, scissors, coffee, sugar, salt, assorted canned goods, —and one of the finest selections of patent nostrums and objets de toilet to be found this side of Savannah!”

I’d a mind to ask a question of my own about then. But when I opened my mouth to pose it the bald-headed Perfessor weren’t lookin’ in my direction. And he didn’t seem near ready to start windin’ down his spiel just yet.

“The Good Book advises that no man hide his light under a bushel. And I take that to mean that if you’ve got something folks ought to know about, you’d better get their attention. The sounds you heard as my outfit approached are no accident, for they proclaim my coming to every citizen in the vicinity. And when I have halted to begin setting up shop, I continue attracting patrons through the mechanical artistry of this self-contained Orchestrion.”

He took out a odd-lookin’ key from his pocket and put it in a hole in the side of the wagon, turnin’ it round a few times before steppin’ back to let me catch a glimpse of what was happenin’.

All them levers an’ hammers behind that glass window had started turnin’ and thunkin’, along with a little bellows I hadn’t seen before. And there come out of that contraption the dangdest tootin’ and squeekin’ and caterwaulin’ you ever heard in all your borned days. My ears hadn’t fetched up against nothin’ like that sinct them couple nights I spent a year or so back, up to this sportin’ house in Denver.

I done my best to act impressed and admirin’, bitin’ down hard on the inside of my cheek flesh to keep from gettin’ tickled and havin’ to go two, three more falls with this rasslin’ perfessor. But when the music finally run out I seen he was laughin’ and grinnin’ hisself to beat the band. So I figured it’d be okay to smile back just a little bit on my own.

“Pretty slick, huh?” Baldy put the key away and shoved his high hat over at a sassy angle before comin’ to stand spraddle-legged in front of me. “You goin’ to keep all that hooch in the canteen to yourself, or can a fellow get a little of his own back?”